Glossolalia

In the glossolalia of every day,
a sacred mystery
is spoken into our body
and we speak its dialect
into the bodies of lovers,
into the waving limbs
of the ecstatic tulip tree,
into the childish laughter
of our accidental humor,
into the palms of mothers
and fathers and children.
We do not understand
our own native tongue,
but recognize the cadence of truth
punctuated by justice,
compassion and illumination.
The announcement of the future
flows from us like a river that leaps
from the ground as a spring,
fully born, muscular
and with all the determination
and portent of gravity.
In blue roils, it says
it is free of the past.